


daughter of the roses.

by lakshmi



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: hey so this got dark, lots and lots of ocs but kanan is a wol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 17:24:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12040677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lakshmi/pseuds/lakshmi
Summary: this was written as a commission for a friend of mine. lots of death and unhealthy relationships and blood and gross stuff.





	daughter of the roses.

the first one she’d seen was soma. 

she was leaned up against the wall, blood pooling on the floor from some ghastly wound. kanan can’t bear the sight, rushing over to her form. her fingers reach for a pulse, a breath, anything to confirm her daughter still lived; but there was nothing to be found, only her cold, drained form. her heart nearly stopped -- but the scream flung her gaze to yet another scene. a large form bent over yet another body, dagger grasped in one hand and the other used to hold his victim in place. a cry rips through her, but she doesn’t move from her position near soma’s body, only able to clutch her stomach and stay upright.

it’s too much. 

she sees lights, the room tilts, and she staggers forward, reaching -- grasping for the murderer. anything to get him away from her daughter and sister. it’s an ugly struggle, both of them blindly grasping for the knife in an effort to silence the other; kanan is sure her hands are ripped to shreds, but she manages to grab the thing after an immense amount of difficulty. 

he’s pinned her down, and she can feel his breath hot on her cheek. it’s only now that she processes just who he is --

‘ kresnik. ‘ 

it seems that time stops, but the pain increases tenfold. he’s grasped her wrist, aimed the dagger at his own heart. slowly, slowly, she pushes the blade past the leather and skin and flesh and revels in the pain it causes him. he deserves every second --

‘ you can kill me, t’kana. it’s quite alright -- i wanted you to know how much i love you. ‘ and some ghastly sort of smile appears on his face, one where she’s sure she’s imagining the blood dripping from his fangs and his tongue moves to catch it from his lip before it falls. 

but there are no words left for her, only pure, unadulterated anger and loathing remaining for the likes of him. she wrenches the knife out, flipping their forms so she lies on top and he against the cobblestone. once, she stabs into his chest, then once more, and again, and again, until she has no strength left and he’s well beyond death. 

slowly, and with great effort, she peels herself off of the blood-soaked man, and kneels beside him. there are echoes inside her head, not quite visions but clear images of her daughter crying, attempting to defend herself with all she had left; of her sister, throwing herself in front of soma at the last minute, and instead being taken down by the madman without much hesitation. he’d kissed her, kanan sees, and her heart keens and mourns for the way in which her family had been abused and murdered. 

she hugs her knees, pressing her forehead to the floor. there will surely be guards here soon, she thinks, and they would think her responsible -- but nay, they would not think her so. she practically crawls to the balcony, tears streaming down her cheeks and her hands shaking. she clutches the railing, but can’t do more than rest against it; if she were able, she’d fling herself over without a second thought -- there’s something that keeps her there, some force that downright refuses to let her go. 

she’s convinced her sight is playing tricks on her, for when she next opens her eyes, a strikingly familiar au ra kneels next to her. she’s dressed in white, hair still long and black as the day they’d first met. she can’t be alive, there’s no possible outcome where she’d live --

‘ lyz, she… she wasn’t breathing, she wouldn’t say a thing when i called her name -- ‘

‘ i know, kanan. ‘ lyzbethel’s fingers run through her hair in what she hopes is a soothing motion, bringing kanan’s head to rest in her lap. ‘ trust me, i do -- ‘

‘ can i go with you? ‘ she interrupts, gaze searching her wife’s face for any sign of anything; hope, love, forgiveness, anything. ‘ hydaelyn won’t -- she won’t -- ‘ once more, the miqo’te dissolves into tears. ‘ she saw what happened, and wouldn’t… ‘

‘ i will, kanan. there is little i can do, but… i will. for what we had. for what you lost. ‘


End file.
